


AKA Protective

by ceterisparibus



Series: Prompts! [17]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Disaster Jessica Jones, Human Disaster Malcolm Bright, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, I hope, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Whump, because Jessica Jones, eventually, lol get it they're all disasters, the tags make this sound darker than it is, tiny bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29804853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceterisparibus/pseuds/ceterisparibus
Summary: What happens when a profiler meets Jessica Jones? (Matt is just trying to make sure she doesn't punch Malcolm in the face.)Note: this is post Jessica Jones Season 3, so expect some spoilers.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Matt Murdock
Series: Prompts! [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1334596
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	AKA Protective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Srasi123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srasi123/gifts).



> For Srasi123, who wants to see Malcolm and Matt meeting various other Defenders!

“Stop!” Matt yelled. “Are you _insane?_ ”

Malcolm’s head turned as he glanced over his shoulder. “You mean, like, would an expert say so, or…?”

Matt closed his eyes tight. Not that it could block out his awareness of his boyfriend walking along a precariously thin (and not exactly stable) railing on the roof of some dilapidated building. “Please get down from there.”

“I thought this was the point?” Malcolm called back.

“The…” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point of parkour is _efficiency_. And stealth, occasionally. Not…whatever this is.”

“Fun!”

“I’m going to murder you,” Matt muttered under his breath. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Malcolm could take care of himself, generally speaking. But Malcolm did not have the advantage of enhanced senses and rigorous training. He didn’t voice this out loud, though; he tried once, and Malcolm shot back that FBI training was nothing to sniff at, and Matt pointed out that he’d literally outmaneuvered and otherwise defeated a task force of multiple corrupt FBI agents, and, well, that was their first fight as a couple. Matt was not eager to restart it.

“And don’t try to tell me you never parkour for fun,” Malcolm went on, still walking along the railing, swaying once in awhile to correct his balance. (Matt’s heart jumped into his throat every time.)

Matt had no response to this, so he kept quiet and concentrated on not thinking about Malcolm plummeting to the concrete so far below. True, it wasn’t like Matt was never reckless himself. But at least he knew how to cope with his own recklessness.

Finally, blessedly, the railing ended and Malcolm hopped down onto the flatter part of the roof. They were on an apartment building sharing a block with the building belonging to their target. Matt hopped over the tiny gap between buildings, and Malcolm swiftly followed.

“I’m sorry I freaked you out,” Malcolm said quietly.

Matt resisted the initial impulse to deny being freaked out. “Thanks. I know you can take care of yourself, I just…”

“Have a desperate need to control everything happening around you,” Malcolm finished promptly. “I know. I’ve known that for a long time.”

Matt pulled back. “Excuse me? That’s not—”

“Ooh, look!” Malcolm trotted on ahead. “Fire escape. Perfect.”

Matt sighed, but followed. The fire escape would grant them easier access to their target’s building, far easier than trying to unobtrusively pick a lock or trick their way into the building. But as he mentally traced the path of the fire escape to the window of their target’s apartment, he caught the lingering scent of whisky mixed with leather, dry shampoo, and the distinctly human scent of someone who hadn’t showered in about four days.

He stopped dead. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“There’s someone in the apartment. Not our killer.”

Now Malcolm sounded _excited_ of all things. “Think they’re connected, though?”

“They’re definitely not connected.”

“How do you know?” There was a pause. Malcolm reading his face, or however he did it. (Matt still wasn’t entirely sure, but he was continually impressed.) “You know them,” Malcolm realized aloud.

“Her,” Matt corrected grimly.

“Who is she?”

Matt sighed. “She’s a PI. And she’s not gonna like you.”

“I get that a lot,” Malcolm mused (and Matt felt a pang). He edged closer to the fire escape. “Are we going in anyway?”

Matt sighed again. “Might as well.” He wasn’t about to let Jessica Jones keep him from hunting a killer. He just hoped she wouldn’t do something like…throw Malcolm through a wall. He put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Just—listen. Try not to profile her. All right?”

Malcolm suddenly sounded reproachful. “I can’t just turn it off.”

True; Matt of all people knew that. “Just don’t _tell her_ you’re profiling her. In fact—let’s not tell her you’re a profiler at all, all right?”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly. “Why?”

“For your health.”

Malcolm let out a little laugh. “What?”

“She’s…a very private person.”

Malcolm opened his mouth.

Matt cut him off. “That was _not_ a pun on her profession.”

Malcolm hummed. “It could be if you let it be.”

“Malcolm, I’m serious.” Matt lowered his voice. “She’s…enhanced. She has incredible strength. She—”

“How much strength?” Malcolm asked curiously.

“She once caught a falling elevator with her bare hands. While two men were standing on it.”

Malcolm whistled. “How’d she get like that? Something from her childhood?”

“I _just said_ not to profile her.”

“I wasn’t…” Malcolm trailed off. “Okay,” he admitted a second later. “Yeah. I was starting to profile her.”

Matt kept his hand on his shoulder. “Listen, she may not have much finesse, but if you push her buttons, she could seriously hurt you. Or me,” he added as an afterthought, “for introducing you.” Or possibly just because she felt like it.

“You’re serious,” Malcolm murmured.

Matt nodded. “Just…please…be careful?”

“Sure.” Malcolm leaned in, gave him a small kiss. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Matt was too busy being relieved to properly return the kiss. Pulling away, he started descending down the fire escape, determined to be the first person Jessica saw. He found the window unlocked, and already half-open. Sliding noiselessly into the apartment, he took a second to pinpoint her. She was in what must be the bedroom, digging through drawers in the bedside table. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Malcolm slipped into the room beside him. “Sense anything helpful yet?” he whispered.

Matt tilted his head, focusing on each room of the apartment in turn. The place seemed stale—the killer hadn’t been home in a while—but not a detail was out of place. “Aside from the fact that this guy’s a little OCD?”

Malcolm advanced into the apartment, footsteps almost as silent as Matt’s. “Just because someone likes order doesn’t mean they have OCD. I can’t rule it out with this guy, but I think…” He stopped next to…was that…taxidermy?

Matt frowned, coming closer, trying to get a better read. He was picking up a weird mix of fur, skin, bones, chemicals, and…lifelessness.

Malcolm leaned closer to the object. “I think his need to keep everything in perfect order has more to do with narcissism and psychopathy.”

“What is this?” Matt gestured at the animal. “Some wild animal?”

But Malcolm shook his head. “It’s just a dog. Looks like it could be anyone’s pet. It’s like he’s…staging the perfect, domesticated scene.”

Matt grimaced. “Would he be—" He broke off sharply.

Jessica was coming out of the bedroom.

Her heartbeat—always louder and faster than a normal person—sped up the second she rounded the corner from the hallway and saw them. There was a pause, in which she and Malcolm presumably stared at each other, while Matt waited tensely.

Then she folded her arms across her chest. “What the hell, Murdock?”

Matt smiled weakly. “Hi, Jess.”

She pointed. “Who the hell is he?”

Malcolm stepped confidently forward, holding out his hand. “Malcolm Bright. Nice to meet you.”

She did not shake his hand.

Malcolm slowly curled his fingers in towards his palm and lowered his hand back to his side like a puppy that had been denied a treat and wasn’t quite sure if he’d done something wrong.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“What are you doing here?” Matt retorted.

She sounded, as always, supremely unimpressed. “I’m working a case.”

“Listen, I know it’s not public knowledge yet, but the man who owned this apartment killed four people in as many weeks.”

Neither her heartrate nor her breathing changed at all. “Yeah,” she said simply. “I know.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Your case is about a _serial killer?_ ”

She just shrugged. “He’s behind in child support.”

“He’s a _serial killer_ ,” Matt repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, I got that part.”

Malcolm’s head tilted. “And you’re not surprised. You already knew. How’d you find out?”

“I mean it was pretty obvious, once I started looking into him.” Her voice was laced with disdain; she clearly thought Matt and Malcolm were amateurs; Matt would be shocked if she weren’t rolling her eyes right now. “I just stalked him a bit and realized his not-so-random walks were actually hunts when he kept going back to the places where his victims were last seen, so there you go.”

“Okay.” Malcolm sounded bewildered. “Still. You didn’t think maybe you should, y’know…call the police?”

“Uh, no? Not my job.”

“He’s _killing people_.”

Jessica shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. (Black, Matt was sure.) “Yeah, and, I mean…yikes, and all that. But no matter what _some_ people like to say about me, I’m not a vigilante.”

Matt snorted loudly.

“I’m _not_ ,” she said witheringly. “Because I have this little thing called self-preservation, and I’m generally disinclined to commit suicide by _falling building_.”

That shut Matt up.

Not Malcolm, though. (To be fair, nothing ever shut Malcolm up.) “What are you talking about?”

And…yeah, Matt hadn’t exactly told him about that. It wasn’t like he was _hiding_ it, it was just…. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said firmly.

Malcolm gave a small nod, like he actually trusted that Matt really would talk about it later, and turned back to Jessica. Unfortunately, Matt could almost hear his brain building its analysis. “Matt said you're incredibly strong.”

If he thought she’d take that as a compliment, he was dead wrong. “Yeah?” Jessica’s voice was poisonous. “What _else_ did Matt say?”

“Nothing,” Malcolm said quickly. “I’m just not sure I understand why you’re not more into the vigilante thing. I mean, you could be saving lives.”

“Been there,” she drawled, “done that, got _that_ t-shirt. I’m done.”

Malcolm’s head slowly tilted. “Why? What happened?”

Oh, no. Matt stiffened. He was profiling her. Matt _told_ him not to—

“You could be a hero,” Malcolm went on. “but you’re choosing not to be. Even though you have a good heart. Deep down, you care about people.”

“Prove it,” Jessica growled, a warning laced all through her voice.

“So it’s not that you don’t care. Which means…oh,” Malcolm said softly. “You feel like you failed.”

She took a step towards him. “Shut the hell up right now.”

“Malcolm,” Matt said, low and urgent. “Seriously, don’t—”

“But you should know, you don’t have to be perfect,” Malcolm went on earnestly. “You don’t have to save everyone. You just—you just have to try. That’s all. Just—”

She stepped in close. She was actually maybe an inch taller than Malcolm, in addition to having enough strength to punch his heart out of his chest, so Matt was honestly impressed when Malcolm stood his ground. “You have _no idea_ what I’ve tried to do,” she hissed.

Malcolm froze. “Sorry,” he said, voice even despite the fact that his heartrate had sped up. Whether because he was finally heeding Matt’s warnings or because he was picking up on something in Jessica, Matt didn’t know. “Sorry, I shouldn’t try to tell you what to do. Good luck with the child support.”

She paused.

“And, hey, if you find anything you think’ll help us track this guy down, will you let us know?” Malcolm went on, and it was strange: his tone was smooth like he was being manipulative, but also too light to not be honest. “Matt says you’re a great PI, so you’ll probably find stuff we miss.”

For a long time, Jessica just stood there. Glaring at Malcolm, probably. To intimidate him, or to piece him together?

Then she turned abruptly to Matt. “Where’d you find this one?”

“Come again?”

“Malcolm, or whatever the hell his name is. Where’d you find him?”

“I’m standing right here,” Malcolm pointed out mildly.

“At a fundraiser,” Matt offered. “We were, um…fundraising.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Jessica pulled a flask out of her jacket. “You’re a shit liar, you know that?”

Matt huffed in annoyance.

“So what was it, a dating app?”

Matt blinked. “Excuse me?”

“What?” Malcolm asked.

“I mean, ’cause you two are…” She gestured between them, then laughed at their awkward silence. “Come on, like it’s not obvious. So congrats, or many happy returns, or whatever people are supposed to say, I dunno.” She took a long drink from her flask (Matt wrinkled his nose at the whisky particles now hanging in the air) and changed the subject. “Look, if you’re trying to get this guy, don’t bother looking for evidence of murder in here. The place is spotless. But you can get him for identity theft once you compare his bank records to the records of his victims, and you can use that to put him away until you find more solid evidence of the murders.”

Matt blinked again. That was amazing. It wouldn’t be enough to prove murder by beyond a reasonable doubt; the defense could just try to spin it like he was an opportunistic identity thief taking advantage of local murder victims. But it was a great start, better than anything he or Malcolm had come up with so far. More importantly, they could use the evidence to get him off the streets before he could kill again.

Still, Matt knew better than to thank her. She’d just be upset that he was turning it into _a thing_.

Malcolm, however, either didn’t realize this, or didn’t care. “Jessica, that’s so helpful,” he said sincerely. “Thank you so much.”

“Whatever.” (Her tone was impossible to read.) She took a few steps backwards. “Well, I’ve got what I need from this bachelor pad, so I’ll get out of the way so Matt can…sniff stuff out, or whatever.”

Matt frowned. “It’s more complicated than that.” And she knew it.

But she’d never admit it. “You’re a glorified sniffer dog,” she shot back.

Malcolm laughed.

Traitor.

Jessica seemed a little pleased as she ducked out the window. Then her heavy boots were _plonking_ on the fire escape.

“I think that went well,” Malcolm said cheerfully.

Honestly, it did. Surprisingly so.

Malcolm nudged him. “Admit it, you’re impressed. You didn’t think I could go a whole conversation without inviting someone to punch me.”

“ _No_ , it’s just that Jessica’s threshold for punching people is considerably lower than most people’s.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Malcolm turned as if staring out the window where Jessica had disappeared. “She wants to trust people, though.”

Matt, who had started investigating the rest of the apartment, paused. He knew she wanted to trust _him_ , but only because she’d essentially told him. “People in general?”

“I think so.” Shrugging, Malcolm headed over to the living room to rifle through books. He liked to start with books. “But she’s…defensive. Something happened. Something separate from the whenever she tried to save someone and failed. I think? Or maybe not so separate. I’m not sure.”

“Malcolm,” Matt said quietly.

Malcolm shook his head. “I’m not gonna _tell_ her I’m getting all that. But it’s important info to know. Especially if I see her again.”

“Why?”

“So I know not to push her,” Malcolm said simply, like using all the knowledge he gleaned from people for their good instead of his own advantage was the most obvious thing in the world.

Matt felt a burst of affection, and tried to keep it at bay. They were on a mission, after all. “It’s assumptions, not information,” he pointed out.

“Am I wrong, though?”

Matt said nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> (Tiny note, as I do my part to try to make the world a better place: please don't make jokes about having OCD unless you actually have OCD. It's not just about obsessions and compulsions, it's also a disorder, meaning it is by definition distressing and/or dysfunctional, and that's really not funny.)
> 
> In other news, I'm so excited to throw these three disasters together!


End file.
